


A Good Man

by AvocadoLove



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Civil War Team Iron Man, Dubious Morality, M/M, Maybe - Freeform, Moral Ambiguity, Or maybe Bucky is out of his mind, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Villain Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-05
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2019-06-05 12:01:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15170321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvocadoLove/pseuds/AvocadoLove
Summary: What no one in this century seemed to remember was that, at one time, before the serum, Johann Shmidt had been considered a good man. Shmidt had become the Red Skull after receiving the serum. What was Steve Rogers becoming…?(A villain Steve fic.)





	A Good Man

**Author's Note:**

> Even though I love Steve Rogers as a character, I have always wanted to write an evil!Steve fic. But let's face it... the man is damned hard to make a villain without writing an AU or going completely out of character. I'm still not sure I succeeded, but it was fun to try.
> 
> Posting this on July 4th because I'm an asshole.

 

 

The reason Bucky had run from Steve for two years after the crash of the Insight helicarriers was less about his fractured memories and more the screaming gut feeling that _something_ wasn’t right.

Bucky had lived a long, long life. He knew when to trust his gut.

But when his back was against the wall, he decided to throw in with Steve and Sam. Mostly because he didn’t have a choice.

Still, the uneasiness remained. What Bucky could remember of Steve Rogers back in the day told him _something_ was different now. Something he couldn’t put his finger on.

Growing up, Steve had never been very popular with the ladies or good at making friends on his own. It was more than him being skinny and sickly. Steve would pick a full blown fistfight over any perceived insult, no matter how small. He would also take it personal-like if a lady rejected him (“What if she did have another fella in mind, Stevie?” Bucky remembered telling him, “Just because he wasn’t by her side that second didn’t mean she was lying to you.”).

Steve was stubborn and pushed himself almost to collapse to prove his heart was as good as anyone else’s. He never accepted it wasn’t a matter of good. It was a matter of ability.

Erskine’s fantastic serum had cured the health problems, and discipline during on the battlefield helped to iron out the other wrinkles. Nevertheless, Bucky remembered himself and Gabe stepping in to cover gaps in Steve’s command, just like any good second and third in command would do. Steve was big on tactics, but people… managing people remained a challenge for him. Luckily, people wrangling was what Bucky excelled at.

That had been a long, long time ago.

Now, Bucky watched Sam stare at Steve with stars in his eyes. Not that he could blame him. Steve cut an impressive figure. Command suited him, and Steve was always at his best when _his_ ideas were the ones implemented.

The rest of the team flocked to Steve like cats to cream. Antman, who knew Steve only by reputation. Clint, who had left both family and retirement the moment Steve called. Wanda, who had a darkness about her that Bucky saw in himself. (Shame to see it in a pretty girl, so young.)

They fought together—Steve leading a team against people who had been their friends, all for Bucky’s sake. It was enough to make a man feel humble. To make Bucky question if he was worth it.

(“You’re my best friend,” Steve said and Bucky felt himself pulled into his sway, the absolute confidence behind Steve’s words. It was intoxicating.)

Then there was Howard’s son.

Bucky didn’t blame the man for his reaction after the tape played. His own guilt was too big to handle. (Damn it, Steve, why didn’t you take the time to tell him? Why did it have to come out like this?) But as bad as he felt for Stark, Bucky’s own desire to live was much greater. He tried to run. When that became impossible, he fought.

He was a little too dazed to take in everything that had happened at the last, only that Steve left his shield behind and King T’Challa had miraculously shifted positions and offered Bucky sanctuary.

Safe in this wondrous jungle nation, Bucky was foolish enough to wonder if the fighting could be truly behind him.

Two days later, Steve was making noises about breaking his friends out of a super max prison.

Bucky felt torn. On one hand, they were all fugitives. Law breakers, both domestic and international. He knew for a fact that he had hurt people to escape before _and_ after he was triggered into the Winter Solider. He had helped destroy an airport (never mind it was a German one) for the greater good, but… nevertheless, he had still done it.

On the other hand, these people had thrown in with Steve, and it would be a sin to leave them behind. Steve argued that the Accords were unjust. Bucky didn’t know or care about that, only figured he couldn’t possibly dig himself any deeper.

Once Clint, Scott, Sam and Wanda were safely out of prison and within Wakanda, they were joined by a former Red Room recruit named Natasha. She put the hairs on the back of Bucky’s neck up, though he couldn’t say why. She was always watching.

Then Steve began talking about going on other missions. That there were still many wrongs in this world which needed to be set right. The safest hands were their own. Shadowed places the Accords couldn’t touch. (117 countries had already signed onto the Accords with more negotiating on every day—these must be _very_ shadowed corners, indeed). That eventually, the public would see reason. The people would see Steve and the others were here to help.

_We’re here to bring order to the choas_ , Bucky thought, having heard the beginning of that spiel more times he could count as the Winter Soldier. _Peace comes through pain. Hail Hydra._

That was foolish. Steve was the opposite of HYDRA in every way.

Except… that Steve had a habit of gathering people around him, despite their own best interests. Hell, his team were some of the first outsiders to set foot Wakanda in centuries. Though not everyone was happy about it. (Some in the palace called Steve and his friends ‘Colonists’ when they thought they wouldn’t be heard.) Scott had been on some kind of probation, Clint had not had contact with his family since escaping prison, and Natasha had turned on the Accords she had signed. Now she was as wanted of a fugitive as Bucky.

Soon, Bucky noticed that every decision boiled down to Steve’s way or the Highway. Back in the Howlies, Bucky and Gabe had their hands full mitigating the mistakes of a green (but genius) captain. Now that Steve had experience under his belt, he wasn’t interested in hearing dissent. He knew best. He was their Commander. He had a literal King in his corner.

And in order to accomplish any of these missions, they would need resources. Wakanda would provide some technology and aid. What was left of SHIELD would provide the bulk of the rest. That’s where Natasha came in.

Back in the day, SHIELD was a covert operation under the US Government and the World Council. Remaining off the books had let HYDRA slip in. Now, what was left of SHIELD was totally off-the-map. They no longer answered to a higher power. It was run by a man named Coulson. By Clint’s accounting, there was no greater Captain America fan.

There was more which set Bucky on edge. Fears he knew better than to speak aloud.

What no one in this century seemed to remember was that, at one time, before the serum, Johann Shmidt had been a good man. A man with a wife and children, and who had dedicated his life helping others through an economic downturn after the Great War. Shmidt saw the Nazi party swallowing his country whole and had willingly offered himself up as a test subject to become a powerful leader who could rise up as a voice to rival Hitler. It hadn’t worked the way he wanted. No one would follow a monstrous Red Skull… until they did. Until some became pulled into the sway of his charisma like iron filings to a magnet. Shmidt changed tactics and allied with the Nazis to use their vast power base. Meanwhile, his family dropped out of the history books, never to be heard form again. Then, when he had a large enough following, Shmidt had shed the Third Reich like an old coat and become something even worse. The Red Skull inspired loyalty. Fanatics who would follow him through insanity and beyond because they were utterly convinced they were making the world a better place. It was simply the rest of the world who didn’t see it.

The parallels didn’t escape Bucky. Nor did the fact that both Shmidt and Steve had serum injected in their veins. So had Bucky. But it hadn’t been Erskine’s version of the serum, had it?

_Or, maybe Steve’s right and I’m flat out wrong. Maybe I’m jumping at shadows. Who knows better than Steve than how to fix what is wrong in the world?_

Bucky didn’t couldn’t trust his own judgment. Not with his memories Swiss cheese, and seventy years of HYDRA education burned into his mind. There was a reason he knew Shmidt’s life story.

Still, Bucky’s gut was _screaming_.

 

****

 

 

More often than not, Bucky found himself at the rooftop of the Wakandan palace, staring out across the magnificent city to the far off pastures and fields. He envied the simple farmers working their land.

Up there, he could let his mind drift.

The way Bucky saw it, he had three choices: Set his doubts aside and follow Steve, beg off and put himself in cryo until the triggers could be removed and he could trust his own judgment again, or leave. Go on the run.

He had yet to come to a decision when he had a visitor.

"Are you always this broody?” Princess Shuri said to Bucky one evening when she found him gazing out over the roof. "It's just like your people to think you have the most troubles of all of the world."

Privately, Bucky thought Wakandans were the conceded ones. Came from having the best technology in the world and knowing it, he supposed. Or, perhaps it was that Shuri was a whopping sixteen-years-old and feeling her oats. Bucky had not been much better at sixteen. Probably much worse.

He glanced at Shuri. The corners of her mouth were turned down despite her teasing.

"I'll bite. What's eating you?" he asked.

She let out a long, gusty sigh. "My brother," she said, "is the Black Panther."

Bucky waited a beat. "Yes…?"

She gave him a look of disgust. “When my father ascended, my brother became the Black Panther to protect the country while my father ruled it. Now my brother is both Black Panther _and_ King."

Bucky saw were this was going. "Wait. Does that mean you should be the Black Panther…?"

"Until T’Challa has a son who is old enough, yes," she said sharply. "But it will be years until the Royal horticulturists can regrow enough of the heart herb from what is left of the wild strains. Until then, T’Challa is both Black Panther _and_ King and…" She stopped, pinching her lips together and shooting Bucky a hostile glance.

Bucky returned his gaze to the farmers and fields. "And he’s under Steve's sway," he said, very, very softly.

The churning in his gut returned.

Shuri tried to backtrack. "Steve Rogers is a decent man for a —"

“Colonist?" Bucky asked, amused.

Another glare. "For an _American_. But my brother has his _own_ advisors who already know and love this country. He does not need another. Not even Steve Rogers."

Steve was acting like an advisor to the king? That was news to Bucky.

_Stop it. He's your best friend._

That had been seventy years ago when the world was different. When they both had been different.

Shuri sighed again and rested her hands in the small of her back as she turned to face him. "I know that you have inquired about our cryo-stasis process. It can be done, but I fear your Steve Rogers will not be happy with it… And now, when Steve Rogers is unhappy, my brother is unhappy and that is _supposed_ to make me unhappy."

"Bad feelings all around," Bucky said, purposefully noncommittal. He was waiting for her to get to the point.

"I have enough problems on my plate being this country's Black Panther without the official title or blessing of Bast. I do not have time to re-invent experimental memory assist devices."

"Wait, what do you mean _rei_ nvent?" Bucky asked sharply.

She blinked her large brown eyes at him. “Stark’s Binaurally Augmented Retro-Framing system. The one he offered you."

"Stark never offered me a damn thing." And why would he? Bucky had killed his parents. He and Steve had left him broken and bleeding in Siberia.

Again, Shuri was looking at him like he were a particularly slow student. “In the pardon offered to you in exchange for signing the Accords," she said. "You have read the Accords, correct?"

Forget the churning in his stomach, Bucky’s heart fell into his shoes. He stared at her. "You wouldn't happen to have a copy of that pardon and the Accords ‘round here, would you?"

 

****

 

As Bucky passed the common room on the way back to his own quarters, he heard Steve speaking. He paused to listen in.

"The world will be behind us," Steve said. "They need to know our side of the story. The UN isn't looking out for their best interests. We are.”

“How are you going to do that?” asked Scott, who hadn’t so much as mentioned his daughter since stepping foot on Wakanda’s lands. Now, all his thoughts and energy were turned toward helping Captain America succeed.

“T'Challa said his people can hack into worldwide broadcasts. I can tell our side of the story,” Steve answered, all confidence. “When enough public pressure is put on governments, we can really turn things around."

"I thought you hated press conferences," Natasha murmured.

Bucky could practically hear Steve's grin. "It won't be the first time I played the part of a dancing monkey."

No, but the Steve of old had hated it. Yet, bond sales jumped through every town he had played in… Bond sales at a time when families barely had two pennies to rub together. Imagine what could happen when Steve’s heart was actually in what he was selling.

“Stark’s not going to sit back and let this happen,” Sam said.

“I know Tony,” Steve answered in an… oddly soothing voice. “I’d bet my last dollar he knew of the breakout at the Raft, but didn’t try to stop us. He won’t stop us now. His answer to everything is backdoor dealings and legislation—he’s biding his time. When push comes to shove, he’ll fall in with us.”

“How could you possibly know that?” Scott asked.

There was a pause. Then Clint let out a bark of a laugh. “You didn’t know? Cap and Stark were together.”

“Together, like… in the Biblical sense? Or—"

Clint laughed again. It was all the answer needed.

Bucky’s breath froze in his chest. He had been drifting in and out of consciousness while they left Siberia, but he remembered the final punches of the fight. How Steve had slammed the edge of his shield in Stark’s chest. Suddenly, Stark’s venom-laced words as they left took on a whole new meaning.

Not as a bitter friend, but a broken hearted lover.

They had fought hard. Stark may have started the argument, but Steve had no trouble finishing it. And Steve of all people knew you didn’t hit someone you were in a relationship with. Not even if he was a man.

How many times as a child had Steve helped bandage up his own mother’s face after his father had gone after her? He’d cried to Bucky afterwards enough times…. The Steve that Bucky knew would never, _ever_ would have raised his hand to a lover.

Johann Shmidt had become the Red Skull after receiving the serum. What was Steve Rogers becoming…?

 

****

 

The Accords were a public document and were delivered to Bucky's private tablet before he had even reached his bedroom. It took more digging to unearth the proposed pardon and agreement that had apparently been presented to Steve right before Zemo's command words had clawed into Bucky's brain.

Bucky did not feel shocked. He did not feel sad. He felt scared.

May be Sam knew about the proposed pardon, and maybe he didn't. Neither one of them had so much as mentioned it to Bucky as an option.

At that moment, his three possible paths collapsed into one.

Bucky stood, grabbed his jacket which had the left arm pinned up at the sleeve, and walked out the door. He did not look back.

He found Shuri in her lab. The sixteen-year-old Wunderkind was directing a team of adults much older than herself, all in similarly dressed white lab coats.

Immediately, Bucky felt penitent for his unkind thoughts. These people looked at the girl with nothing but respect. Yes, she was arrogant, but she clearly knew the value of her worth and she was not going to apologize for it.

Shuri looked at Bucky, hip cocked to the side and one eyebrow raised. "Well?"

Bucky swallowed. "I need to arrange travel back to the States. I don’t want T’Challa, or… or Steve to know. Can you do it?"

She nodded once, her eyes flicking him up and down. "May I also suggest, Sergeant Barnes, a razor?"

 

 

****

 

 

 

He shaved the scruff off his chin but kept his hair long. Since, in Shuri’s words “Grunge is decades out of style”, he reluctantly barred a tie and pulled it up. Bucky had seen many fashion trends go in and out of favor during the decades. The man-bun, was not his favorite. But, it was what the kids are doing and despite Bucky's age, his physical self stubbornly stayed in his mid-twenties.

He had to blend in.

The private jet, piloted by an artificial intelligence, landed at JFK international Airport. Bucky de-boarded and walked the streets toward Manhattan, miles away. He was in no hurry, and if things went south this could very well be the last time he would see the city.

He made it to Stark Tower a little after ten in the morning. So far, he hadn't been recognized, but Stark probably had some fancy facial recognition system. The moment Bucky stepped into the hallway, the entire building went on lockdown.

Civilians were evacuated and the doors were barred shut.

Bucky waited patiently.

Some ten minutes later, Stark walked in clad in full Iron man gear. Bucky wasn't sure if he had managed to fix the suit, or if he had others in reserve. Either way, he was glad to see it operational.

Bucky held up his empty hand to show he held no weapons, and waited to see if Stark was going to shoot him.

There was a crystalline moment of hesitation. Then the helmet retracted and Starks still bruised face glared at him. "Barnes," he said, short and clipped. "Where's Rogers?"

"He doesn't know I'm here," Bucky said, not answering the question.

Stark nodded once. "Speaking of, why are _you_ here?”

"I... I need help.” Bucky swallowed, thinking of what he heard in the common room. For a horrible moment, Steve’s face—the man who called himself Steve now, not the friend he’d known since they were both children—overlaid itself over Red Skull’s face. “The world is going to need a lot of help real soon… and I need to face up for what I did as the Winter Soldier." His eyes met Stark’s. "I've come to surrender."

 


End file.
